


when you think happiness

by helsinkibaby



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Captivity, Community: comment_fic, F/M, Kidnapping, Mentions of Canon Level Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5925382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captured in Afghanistan, Kensi thinks back to a time when she was happy</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you think happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Theme : colours  
> Prompt : any, any, when you think happiness/i hope you think that little black dress/think of my head on your chest/and my old faded blue jeans

The cave is dark and damp, no windows to track the movement of the sun and Kensi has long since lost track of time. Hunger and fear war for supremacy in the pit of her stomach and her limbs ache from a combination of lying chained on the cold earth and the beatings she has taken at the hands of her captors. For now, she is alone and the silence tells her that there is no-one near her but somehow that almost makes things worse - she feels like she should be trying to escape but she is faint from lack of food, probably dehydrated and there's no way she has the strength to break these chains. 

She hates feeling so helpless. 

Hates feeling so scared. 

Closing her eyes, she retreats into her memory, to a moment she treasures. It was after an undercover op, one that involved dressing up, teasing her hair into an elaborate style, vamping it up with her makeup and pouring herself into a dress where the skirt was short and her heels were high. The net effect was outstanding, she knew, and even if she didn't, the eyes (and often, the hands) of every man in the room would have told her so. 

By the end of the night, all she wanted was a shower and some comfortable clothes and she'd gone straight home, not even stopping by work to talk to Hetty and get changed. Hetty would understand, she was sure, and if Hetty didn't, well then she'd worry about it the next morning. 

Walking into her apartment, she was met with a low whistle, a look of undeniable appreciation. This one, though, made her want to smile instead of break fingers. 

"Wow," Nate said, casting aside his book, standing to go over to her. "That is a dress."

Kensi raised an eyebrow. "So I've been told." She couldn't help the faint hint of asperity that bled into her voice and Nate looked sympathetic as he stood in front of her, laid his hands on her shoulders and rubbed gently. 

"Will you tell me I'm being sappy if I say it's not half as beautiful as the woman wearing it?"

He was teasing, but only half and there was nothing half hearted about the smile she gave him in response. "Yes." Her hands found their way around his neck. "And thank you."

He kissed her then, slow and sweet and she was surprised when he stepped back.  "You look like you want a shower," he told her. "I'll call for takeout while you're in there." 

"I knew there were advantages to dating a shrink," Kensi told him and his chuckle rang in her ears as she kicked off those damn shoes and padded barefoot towards the bathroom. 

By the time she emerged, in a shirt that was his and her favourite, well worn, soft as butter, faded blue jeans, the takeout had arrived and he had a beer open beside her plate. She sat down beside him and told him all about the op, rolled his eyes at his asides, grinned as she shook his head at some of Eric's comments over comms. Later, they ended up lying on the couch together, Kensi's head on Nate's chest as he channel surfed idly, muttering disgustedly about how Bruce Springsteen had been right - "57 channels and nothing on." 

She was almost been asleep when she felt his fingers trace a path down her spine and she looked up, blinking at him. "You ok?" His voice was quiet, serious and she didn't have to think twice about her reply. 

"I'm happy," she told him, and she knew she sounded surprised to say it. Not half as surprised as she was to actually realise it, and she saw an equal surprise flare in his eyes. Then a slow smile spread across his face, the match of the one she felt spreading across her own and his hand moved from her spine to her cheek. 

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

She thinks about that night now, half a world away and her eyes burn with tears she cannot cry. She will get out of here, she knows that. Sam and Callen and Hetty will not stop until they find her and she's not going to give up either. After all, she's got something to go home to - happiness. 


End file.
